


Wake Up

by DeadGodBless



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:12:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadGodBless/pseuds/DeadGodBless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles pants for air as his head snaps from side to side in a desperate attempt to find the man he'd just seen. "Wait! Please wait!"</p><p>He jumps in shock as suddenly there's a voice in his ear, low and desperate. "Please wake up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is completely unbeta'd, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors there may be. I would like to thank the lovely Angie for letting me bounce all my ideas for this fic to her and for stroking my ego.

It’s not the familiar sound of the front door closing as his father heads off to work or a piercing scream from someone he can’t save that jerks Stiles from what little bit of precious sleep he’s finally managed to get, but the shrill shriek of his alarm clock. He wakes with a start, all limbs and awkward flailing. Maybe it’s a dream he’s forgotten, or maybe just hazy memories of the night before, but something has him feeling unsettled to his core.

He can’t seem to shake the feeling, even as water pours over his back in warm and gentle streams. It’s something he can’t quite place, a feeling he just can’t name. Whatever it is, it leaves a dull sort of panic in his gut. It twists its way through him, as if demanding his attention. He runs a hand through his short fuzz of hair and tries to focus on taking deep and even breaths, in keeping the sense of dread as tiny as he can.

The absense of water adds nothing to his clarity as he quickly throws on layers, pops an adderall, and snatches a piece of toast with jittery fingers before hopping into his jeep and rushing off to school. His fingers tap a senseless rhythm onto the steering wheel and he can’t stop shifting in his seat. He can’t help being so on edge, feeling as though something is going to jump out at him any second; dashing in front of the jeep only to drag him out and devour him bit by bit. It’s stupid and silly, he knows, because Beacon Hills couldn’t be safer. He should know, his father being the sheriff. Nevertheless, the feeling haunts him the entire drive.

Scott is waiting for him on the sidewalk outside the school, launching immediately into a story about his latest “totally awesome” date with Allison. Stiles can’t help the stab of jealousy that tears through him. How it was that his (while admittedly loveable) dopey best friend had managed to snag a catch like Allison Argent yet Lydia Martin still won’t acknowledge Stiles’ existence frankly just isn’t fair. Somewhere there’s a diety laughing cruelly at Stiles’ misfortune. He’ll swear by it.

His day starts with English, and really it could be worse. Losing himself to the drone of his teacher as they “discuss” their way through another pointless novel almost lets him forget his unease; the feeling dying down to white noise. Scott passes him notes about Allison’s hair and her face and how much he loves her and it’s all just so normal, so perfectly and completely normal, that he can’t help feeling silly about his worries.

Until the note comes about dinner with Allison’s family. “Her mom totally loves me dude. She gave me the biggest slice of pie. And her dad invited me to watch the game with him.” Scott writes. It should make sense that Allison’s parents like Scott. What’s not to like right? But it just doesn’t sit well and that feeling of dread that had been white noise is now a screaming alarm in his head. Something isn’t right here.

He worries about it, chewing the end of his pen, until the bell releases them and they make their way to Economics. Coach Finstock is in a great mood, because thanks to Scott and Jackson the lacross team won the game the night before, and as a result he’s decided it’s a completely appropriate day for them to watch Jurassic park. If he weren’t so high strung, Stiles might have spent a little bit internally laughing and trying to figure out why Jurassic Park would even be an option in an Economics class. Instead he shakes his foot anxiously under the desk and does his best to keep responding to the notes Scott passes to him.

It’s a relief to go to lunch, where Allison is waiting for Scott to plop down next to her so they can retreat into their little world of PDA and rainbows. It doesn’t take long for their table to fill up; Jackson, Lydia, Danny, and Boyd all taking their seats and launching into conversation. Stiles listens vacantly and slowly chews his way through his curly fries.

“Jesus Stilinski, who killed your cat?” Jackson finally asks, because as self-absorbed as he may be, he can at least take his eyes off Lydia long enough to realize that Stiles eating his curly fries one by one is simply not normal.

Scott turns to look at Stiles guiltily from where he’d been focused on Allison. “You got a cat? Someone killed it?”

“It’s an expression dumbass.” Jackson snaps, rolling his eyes and sneering down his nose at Scott. Stiles can’t help snickering, because really Scott should know better.

“I’m fine.” Stiles says finally, chewing another curly fry.

Boyd snorts. “And I’m the pope.”

Stiles looks down at his food, expression thoughtful before saying. “Doesn’t something just feel...off?” He looks up and they’re all glancing at him like they have no idea what he’s talking about. “I mean, things are just so calm and I feel like they...shouldn’t be?”

“Did you remember to take your Adderall this morning, Stiles?” Lydia asks, and really he should be excited that she’s even talking to him but even that just doesn’t seem right. Something about the genuine concern to her voice, the lack of cold judgment or detached flippancy making him uneasier.

“Yeah, I took it.” He answers, hoping the subject will drop, because really he just feels stupid now. He wishes he hadn’t said anything at all, wishes he had just hid his anxiety underneath a goofy grin like he had when the wounds were still fresh from his mom.

Lydia opens her mouth and it’s clear she intends to pursue this further, but she’s suddenly glancing up to someone who’s standing at the end of their table, and Stiles turns to see Erica Reyes and Isaac Lahey standing there. Isaac’s face is its usual state of withdrawn apathy, but Erica looks nervous. “Would it be alright if we sat with you?” Her voice is soft and lacking confidence.

Lydia looks like she’s about to say no, but Allison cuts in; smile lighting up her face like the sweet little angel she is. “Of course! We’d love it!”  
Erica’s face lights up like Stiles has never seen as she pulls a chair over to sit next to him and Isaac takes his spot on her other side at the end of the table. The addition of another player thankfully shifts the conversation to lacrosse and really Stiles couldn’t be happier to listen to chatter about the sport because the spotlight is off him. In fact, everyone seems to forget completely as Lydia draws Allison into a side conversation of some shopping trip they’re planning. In an act of what Stiles figures must be pity on Lydia’s part, she includes Erica, inviting the girl along and offering to give the girl a makeover. Erica seems shocked, and genuinely grateful. She must not have seen the spark in Lydia’s eyes that tells Stiles she’s up to something.

Eventually Allison forces Scott to switch Erica seats and the girls are all huddling in the middle of the table discussing something in hushed tones. Under normal circumstances Stiles would be doing his best to figure out just what it is they’re talking about, but he’s distracted by the overwhelming smell of musk and earth. It fills up his senses until everything else is drowned out by the utter familiarity of it. Stiles wishes he could place it; spends the rest of lunch obsessing over it. His efforts are met with naught and finally he gives up, getting up from his seat at the table to make his way to Chemistry.

Chemistry is easier, because he’s too busy dealing with Harris’ general dickishness to think about the smell and his jitters. Harris decides that Scott and Stiles are too disruptive to be near one another and splits them up, sending Stiles to work with Erica and Scott with Isaac. It could be worse, Stiles tells himself as he settles in next to the blonde. Erica’s nice enough; she smiles at him and actually does half of the work which is more than he can say for Scott. And really it’s nice to talk about things like comic books rather than Scott’s depressingly fulfilled love life.

Harris seems to be fuming at Stiles for enjoying himself but really the dude can blame himself; he was the one that had to be a collosal dick. Just to piss him off that much more, Stiles laughs a little louder than necessary at something Erica says and she’s downright beaming in a way that makes her look as though her face might split and, really she’s rather pretty he has to admit. So he brushes her arm with his fingers when he reaches for his pen and she looks at him with doe eyes before smiling shyly and blushing a bit.

There’s only two more minutes of class, and really he has nothing to lose, so he takes a deep breath and, staring forward, asks “Have you seen Dark Knight Rises yet?”.

She makes a sound of defeat. “No. I’ve been meaning to, I’ve just been busy.”

“So let’s go tonight.” He can’t look at her, because he’s been shot down so many times before that if he’s going to go through that again he’s at least not going to see that look of displeasure stretch across her face as she turns him down.

But she doesn’t. Turn him down. She let’s out a small gasp and asks “yeah?”

“Yeah.” He finally braves glancing at her and she’s grinning again, her face lit up with unadultered joy. He’s about to say something else when the bell rings, and Harris starts barking at them about how the bell doesn’t dismiss them, he does. Stiles rolls his eyes and focuses his attention back Erica. “Ride with me after school? We can grab something to eat before the movie?”

She nods exuberantly as she gathers her things. “Blue jeep right?”

“That would be the one.” He can’t help smiling because really hers is so contagious, and then they’re going their seperate ways and Scott’s glued to his side questioning him endlessly about what he was so happy about. It isn’t until he’s at the door of his next class that the smell hits him again and this time it’s not so much unsettling as sad. The smell of the woods overwhelms him as he sits at his desk feeling morose, and looks down at the cheap wood. Scratched into it are three simple words.

Please wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some time before work so I decided to write another chapter. Hope you guys like it.

The diner isn’t very busy; a few scattered patrons keeping to themselves. Stiles is grateful, because as much as he’d love to rub it in everyone’s face that he has a date he’s pretty sure he’s going to make an idiot of himself somehow and he’d rather have as few witnesses to that as possible. He and Erica tuck into a booth in the middle and a pleasant looking waitress hands them menus and grabs them drinks.

Erica is smiling again, so Stiles figures he hasn’t screwed up yet. They order their meals and talk while they wait, the conversation thankfully never becoming awkward or strained. Erica genuinely listens when he talks, laughing at his jokes and reaching across the table to rest her hand on his arm at one point. It’s a move he’s seen Lydia use on Jackson about a million times and he wonders briefly when the girls had time to pow-wow for Lydia to teach her that. It stops being important though when Erica bites her lip and threads her fingers through his.

Stiles hasn’t felt this good in a long time. Sure, he has friends, but he knows he’s not the coolest or the funniest. People don’t look at him the way the do Scott and Jackson. But Erica does. She smiles and it’s a little bit shy but mostly just so happy and it’s astounding really, to realize that it’s because of him. She let’s him ramble and go off on tangents as if it’s not something she’s just putting up with, and she’s smart enough to just interject and say what she wants when she wants to rather than drowning in his sea of words. He can’t help wondering how he never noticed her before. 

Er9ca holds his hand in the jeep the whole way to the theater, and picks back up where she left off the second they’re seated with their refreshments. He never thought something as small and simple as hand-holding would make him grin like this, but it does. It’s perfect and wonderful and she seems pretty happy about it too. He’s seen the movie already, so he only half pays attention, instead stealing peeks of her face, loving her expressions and the way her hand tightens in his when things get tense. 

Neither of them move when the movie ends, sitting through the credits and just being together until the cleaning crew comes in and shoots them uncomfortable looks. They move to the jeep then, sitting together and chattering quickly about their favorite parts and characters and the execution of action scenes. It’s not until her mom calls to check in with her that they realize the time, and he drives her home. 

He pulls into her driveway and turns to grin at her. “So this? This is a thing we should definitely do again.”

She beams at him, eyes sparkling. “Definitely. I had a really great time, Stiles.” She leans in and places her lips delicately on his cheek. 

His eyes widen and his cheeks flush and he stumbles over his words as he tells her goodnight. She just giggles and hops out of the car, turning when she reaches the door and waving to him before disappearing inside. 

He’s antsy on the drive home, fingers tapping on the steering wheel and grin stretching his face until it hurts. No wonder Scott always drops everything for Allison. Having a girl pay attention to him is probably the best feeling in the world. 

The drive home is smooth until he comes across a tree in the road. It’s not big, and he figures he can probably drag it out of the way himself; getting out of the car and doing his best to ignore the unease that bubbled in him in the dark of the night. His headlights shine forward onto fallen tree and he uses them to keep from tripping over his own feet as he pulls the tree out of the way. It takes him longer than it should and he can’t help being a little irritated with himself for not being in better shape. No wonder he bench warms every game. 

He’s heading back to the car when the headlights go off. He tells himself it’s nothing, not to panic or worry just get back to the car. He opens the door with trembling hands and clambers into the seat, reaching to turn the key. It’s not in the ignition. Cold terror grips him, tightening in his chest, making it hard to breathe or swallow. He searches the floor of the jeep frantically, but doesn’t find anything. He goes for the handle on the door and the lock clicks shut.

He can’t move, he can’t breathe. All he has is fear, numbing his mind and drowning him. His body trembles as that smell overwhelms him again; like dirt and leaves after it’s rained. It’s inescapable, close, as if pressed against him. He’s going to die, he realizes. Someone’s been stalking him and toying with him and now they’ve got him trapped all alone on the road in the dead of night and they’re going to kill him. 

He can’t help thinking of his poor dad, of how he lost his wife and now he’ll lose his only son too. He thinks about the liquor hidden in the cabinets for when the sheriff can’t quell the pain that rips through him; thinks about how the bottles will increase until it kills his poor dad. He thinks about Scott and how they’ve been friends since they were little. He thinks about Jackson who’s been less of a dick to him lately. He thinks of Isaac who stood up for him in the locker room when Greenberg shoved him against a locker. He thinks of Allison who’s sweet as sugar and quick to cry. He thinks of Lydia who pretends not to notice or care about him but pays enough attention to worry when he acts strange. He thinks of Erica who kissed him on the cheek and smiled like he was the best thing to happen to her.

His finger hits the button on the door to unlock the car, hoping he can make it out and get far enough that his assailant won’t be able to kill him. The lock clicks shut again instantly and he can’t help the desperate sob that escapes his throat. The scent is drowning everything else out, and he hates that it’s going to be the last thing he knows before he dies.

A hand rests heavily on his shoulder from the backseat of the car. “Stiles, wake up.”

And then it’s gone. The keys are in the ignition, the car is rumbling as though it were never off, and when he turns to look Stiles realizes there’s no one in the backseat. He looks around frantically, the voice echoing through his head. There was something familiar about the gruffness to it. His heart pounds frantically in his chest and he tries his best to calm down, fighting off a panic attack.

When he’s finally calm enough he drives home, and if he speeds a little well, who’s going to know? His dad is waiting for him on the couch, asking why he’s home so late and grinning and clasping him on the shoulder to congratulate him when he tells him about his date. He doesn’t tell his dad about the fallen tree in the road, or the smell or that voice; just says he’s tired and heads up to bed. 

His laptop is open and on in his room, the light from the screen piercing the darkness. He looks at it and can’t fight off a feeling of horror. It’s open to a word document, and in a large font are three words. 

Please wake up.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Stiles reaches the school and finds Erica waiting by his locker, the night before feels like nothing more than a bad dream. His morning was utterly normal; no frightening messages or strange smells. Just a warm shower and breakfast with his dad, who picks up where he left off on congratulating Stiles on his date. They talk about school and lacrosse and it’s something he has craved for so long now. The drive to school is quiet and Stiles makes it with a happy heart. Any concern he may have still had tucked away dissipates when Erica smiles at him from her perch beside his locker.

When he throws his bag in his locker and pulls out his book for English, Erica rests her hand on his back. He turns to her and smiles and next thing he knows their fingers are laced and she’s giggling to him about a picture she’d seen on the internet last night. They walk the halls and eventually Isaac joins them. It’s not frustrating or annoying like Stiles imagined having a third wheel must be, like he imagined him being a third wheel to Allison and Scott must be. Instead their conversation slides to neutral ground and they all just enjoy each other’s company until the warning bell rings.

Erica pecks his cheek again and it’s still just as surprising as the first time. Then she’s off with a bounce and a wave. Allison and Scott are waiting in their desks and ambush him immediately. He tells them about the date, about Erica’s laugh and twinkling eyes, about her lips pressing against his cheek not once but twice. They’re happy for him, chattering about a possible double date. It’s enough to keep him from thinking about the fear that had overtook him on the ride home and the strangeness that has been invading his life lately. As a result, English goes well.

Economics goes just as well. They finish the movie from the day before, giving Stiles a chance to think about Erica rather than the affect social trends have on the market. Jackson leans over and makes a few teasing comments about Stiles cashing in his v-card, and they’re made in such light humor that even Stiles laughs along. Jackson grins at that, starting whispered conversations here and there throughout the day and sharing smartass remarks about the movie when ever he feels like it. It’s a clearly inclusive move, pulling Stiles to his level and making them friends. He’s grateful.

Lunch is great. Erica pulls a chair beside him again, this time tucking in closer and letting her fingertips graze him every so often. Lydia starts talking about shopping again, and it becomes apparent that she’s accepted Erica under her wing because she’s obviously going out of her way to include the girl. What’s more surprising is the way she includes Stiles; asking his opinion every so often on their latest topic. Jackson and Danny start talking about Finstock’s mood and the effect it will have on today’s practice.

Stiles cracks a snarky joke and everyone either smiles or laughs. Erica scoots closer to him and lets him wrap his arm around her and that’s when it sinks in. This is all so perfect. It’s everything he ever wanted. He has a girlfriend, his jokes are funny, and it’s almost like everyone’s ten times nice today then usual; like they’ve grown fonder of him overnight.

Even Harris seems a little kinder. He lets Stiles sit with Erica and he doesn’t even snap at them for talking. His schoolwork seems easier than normal. Classmates he knows only by sight greet him with grins and waves. As he sits in his next class he can’t help grinning. There’s no strange smell, no gruff voice, and best of all when he looks down at his desk there are no words.

Things just get better as the day goes on. Someone brings in cupcakes for his last class, and apparently she decides she likes him because she gives him two and they just so happen to be the two with the most frosting. No one tells him to shut up or stop talking so much, instead seeming interested in everything he has to say. And the cherry on top is that Coach Finstock lets him play at practice and he scores two goals. Erica watches and cheers for him like there’s nowhere she’d rather be, and Coach promises him a spot in the upcoming game. 

Erica kisses him outside his jeep, lips soft and warm. She wraps her arms around him and makes a soft sound as she opens her mouth to let him in. She tastes sweet and the kiss is gentle. They only break apart when their lungs start burning for air. He drives her home and she promises to call him before bed.

His dad is waiting at home with dinner ready and an action flick on the tv. They sit beside each other on the couch and spend the night laughing and talking like they used to before his mom died. It spreads a warmth through his chest and brings tears to his eyes. His dad hugs him especially tightly when he heads up to bed, and it’s the best Stiles has felt in years.

The smell is in his room when he heads up to get ready for bed, but Erica calls just like she promised and it makes it easy to ignore. She’s excited about her shopping trip with Lydia and Allison this weekend, and her joy is contagious. Stiles finds himself matching her enthusiasm as they talk about anything and everything, only hanging up because her voice is getting quiet and yawns keep breaking up her words.

When he heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, the mirror is fogged up and the words are there. Please wake up. He rolls his eyes and wipes them away. Whatever’s going on, he’s sick of it. He just wants it to stop.

More than anything he just doesn’t want this to be a dream. Waking up would be too cruel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops casually just posting two chapters today. I'm not even sorry.

A month passes. It feels like hours; happening so fast that Stiles can barely hold on to it. But that’s okay. It’s all so wonderful and perfect and it doesn’t seem to be stopping, so it can move as quickly as it likes as long as it promises not to go away. He’ll take all of it as it come, grinning broadly with his friends at his side.

It’s Spring Break in the blink of an eye, and they’ve all driven up to a “summer home” Jackson’s parents own. The place is massive, bigger than any of them were imagining, and it’s all just for them. Jackson was excited when he suggested the trip, telling them all about the pool and how it would be a great opportunity to get drunk and forget all about school. Stiles was more than on-board with that, because as easy as school had been lately, nothing sounded better than just hanging out and not worrying about anything at all. And oh how right he was, because right now with Erica curled into his side while they all sit watching movies he couldn’t be happier.

They eat at a fancy restaurant for dinner, Jackson telling them all it was his treat, that he was happy just to have them. They sit at a big table and laugh and drink wine and no one asks any questions, just lets them. Erica smiles and offers Stiles a taste of her food and he returns the favor. They laugh and flirt and everyone’s happy. It’s so perfect, he never wants to let it go.

It’s dark when they get back to the house, and Scott proposes a bonfire. He and Boyd run off to collect wood for the fire and once they have enough they light it up. Erica comes back outside and giggles happily at the fire, wrapping her arms around Stiles neck to pull him in for a kiss. She’s so different now, so confident. It started with the shopping trip a month back, Lydia showing her what to wear, how to walk, and how much of a catch she really was. Since then she’s stopped talking so quietly and hiding her face when she blushes, instead taking initiative and demanding respect from everyone around her. Stiles gets plenty of “Dude you’re so lucky” and “Where can I get a girl like that?”’s and he can’t help being proud of her; proud that she let go of her insecurities to shine for everyone the way she has for him. 

They sit around the fire and talk and tell jokes. Eventually ghost stories start up and the boys are doing their best to spook the girls into sitting closer. It’s in that carefree happy moment that Stiles murmurs “Maybe we should have invited Derek. I bet he never has fun like this.”

“Who?” Erica asks him, looking up at him with doe eyes.

He can’t help staring at her, puzzled. Come to think of it, who was Derek, and why would they pop into his head like that? It feels like the answer is right out of his grasp, sliding across his mind almost tauntingly. He can’t help feeling like Derek should be important, someone who should be here with them, someone he should remember. He doesn’t get a chance to think about it long, because Erica’s smearing warm marshmallow on his nose and giggling at the shocked look on his face. She leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose then, tongue darting out to clean off the sticky fluff.

Before he knows it, they’re in bed; Erica looking up at him as he positions himself at her entrance. He stares at her for a long moment and slowly her face reverts to an uncertain frown. “What are you waiting for?”

“I want this to be good for you.” He’s saying without realizing the words are out of his mouth. “I don’t want you to ever look back and regret this.”

She starts crying then, and he can’t help panicking; crawling forward and pulling her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head against his chest and pulls back, eyes wet with tears but soft and full of fondness. “I love you Stiles Stilinski.” Her fingertips stroke his cheek. “I love you forever.”

They do have sex in the end, and she endearingly calls it “making love.” It’s far from perfect, but it’s better than he ever dreamed. She holds him close afterwards and Stiles doesn’t let it bother him that he’s the little spoon. It doesn’t really surprise him. Instead he twines his fingers with hers and lets her even breathing lull him to sleep.

Spring Break is over before he’s ready for it to be, and they’re back home in Beacon Hills. School is still easy, lacrosse is still fun, and everything’s perfect, but it somehow feels wrong. He hates himself for thinking this again, after all, everything is going exactly how he’s always wanted it to. Even still, the unease has been creeping back into his life ever since that night with the bonfire.

He’s doing his homework when the doorbell rings. When he answers it, Erica launches herself at him and wraps him in a tight hug. He laughs and pulls her closer, shutting the door behind her and kissing her. She laughs lightly and pulls away, making her way up the stairs with a coy smile. He follows her up, grinning.

She’s halfway in his room when she stops walking abruptly, her breath suddenly shaky and frightened. She turns to look at him with wide eyes and three words escape her lips in a barely audible whisper. “Please wake up.” And then she’s falling, collapsing to the ground as her eyes roll back into her head and her body tenses up and arches off the floor.

Stiles drops to his knees, scooping her up in his arms and petting her hair as he tries to fight off his own panic. No matter how many times he sees her seize, it never fails to terrify him. He coos her name and reassuring words at her, knowing she can’t respond and they won’t snap her out of it, but hoping at least that his voice gives her some comfort as she loses all control of her body. He kisses her head, breathing shakily and grabbing his phone to call for an ambulance. She hates the hospital, he knows, but he can’t bear the thought of something happening to her if he doesn’t call. She’s too important, too precious.

It’s not until long after they’ve reached the hospital and Scott’s mom is talking to Erica in soft tones that her words sink in. When they do, they fill him with a cold dread, and he has to excuse himself to the bathroom to hide his helpless sobs and hyperventilating as a panic attack overtakes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also guys be glad I don't listen to Angie.
> 
> Kylie: NO BUT TWIST ENDING, ERICA HAS VAGINA TEETH AND BITES HIS DICK OFF  
> angie: omfg for real???  
> Kylie: Pffffffffffffffft oh my god no Ang that would be horrible  
> angie: AND HE WAKES UP  
> angie: HOLDING ON TO HIS DICK YES  
> angie: U shud do it


	5. Chapter 5

He doesn’t sleep. Not much anyways. Time is passing just as quickly and he feels like he can’t keep up anymore. Ever since that day, since Erica’s words, he can find any peace. Nothing changes. Not really anyway. Just him.

They don’t tell him he looks tired at school. They don’t give him crap about how badly he plays at practice. No one says anything when he dozes off in class. His dad doesn’t comment on the extra adderall he’s taking. It’s almost as if his perfect little world doesn’t notice he’s falling behind.

Or maybe he’s just gotten good at hiding it. He still smiles and talks a mile a minute, still holds Erica close and laughs when she cracks a joke. Maybe that’s all it really takes to keep the illusion from crumbling; his feigned immersion. It’s not right though, and he can feel it. It pulses through him, pounding and screaming in his head. Whatever had been done to block it out was gone now, disappated and replaced once more by strange familiarities and three words.

It hits him at the weirdest times. One day he grabs the dictionary off his bookshelf to use for his English homework. No sooner was it in his hand than the smell was there, so strong and overpowering that it took his breath away. For a moment he is frightened, remembering that night in his jeep so long ago; the doors locking and keeping him trapped. He clutches the heavy book to his chest and sinks to the floor, back against the wall. His bed sinks, like someone’s sitting on it. He stares at the indentation in the mattress with wide eyes.

“You need to wake up, Stiles.” The voice is tired this time, frustrated. 

“I’m not asleep.” He whispers, not managing to get it to come out any louder than that. His throat feels thick, his heart pounding.

There’s a growl then. Fear shoots through Stiles and his breathing catches for a moment, because that growl isn’t human. He tries to back further into the wall. It’s the most he can do. He wants to get up and run but he knows the second he tries his shaking limbs will betray him and send him sprawling on the floor. “You’re smarter than this, Stiles! You should have figured it out by now!”

He’s not sure what to say to that, not sure what to do. He sits there, on the floor, waiting for this all to just disappear. This isn’t what he wants; the fear and panic. He wishes he could block it all again, replace it with the laughter of his friends, with his classmates cheers on the field. He’s terrified and lost and he doesn’t know what to do.

The door opens then, Erica bouncing into the room and sitting in the dip on his mattress. She asks him why he’s sitting on the floor, giggling at whatever half-assed joke he makes and leaning forward to tug him over to her. She pulls him down on the bed, kisses him like the world might end if she stops. Her lips and fingers seem to be doing everything they can to make him forget about the stress and fear. It almost works, until he hears the sad sigh.

“Please wake up.”

Allison brings a cake to school. “It’s your birthday!” She laughs when he asks her why. And really? It is? Has that much time passed already? He puts on his best smile as she cuts him a huge piece and everyone is singing to him and Erica’s laughing and clapping and kissing his cheek.

Scott announces he’s made plans; just the two of them like it used to be. They go to his place after school and play video games and pig out on pizza until they think they’ll explode. They don’t talk about Allison or Erica, lacrosse or school. They talk about them; about their friendship and everything they’ve been through. Scott tells him he’s proud to be his best friend, promises to always have his back. They make plans to go to the comic shop a town over next weekend and then it’s late and Stiles has to go home.

He pulls over on the side of the road and sobs. “It’s not real is it?”

He can feel a hand on his shoulder, hear breathing in the back seat. “No.” the voice answers finally.

It’s silent after that, aside from the sound of Stiles’ ragged sobs. Eventually the warm contact on his shoulder disappears, and he knows he’s alone. He lets it out, releases all the emotions so his dad won’t see them when he gets home. It’s a long time before he can calm down enough to drive. It’s late when he finally opens his front door.

His dad is grinning ear to ear, wrapping him in a hug and telling him he loves him. There’s a late dinner waiting in the kitchen and even though he filled up on pizza, Stiles humors his dad and eats. His dad draws him into chatter about his day, how things went, and Stiles puts on a smile and tries to sound enthusiastic as he relays everything. 

By time he gets up to his room, he’s exhausted. He hopes it’s enough to get him to sleep, but deep down he knows better. His mind loops over it all, trying desperately to connect the dots and make some sense of the insanity that is becoming his life. He can’t shut it off, can’t make it stop. He settles instead for opening up his computer and opening his browser. He googles anything and everything, hoping for answers.

All he gets is a tired body trudging its way to school the next day. He pops an extra adderall, hoping it’ll help. It really doesn’t. Everyone’s so enthusiastic as always, Isaac walking with him and Erica to tell them about the movie he had gone to see with his dad. Stiles didn’t say anything, but he knew it was off. For some reason he knew Isaac getting along with his dad just wasn’t right. He filed it away for later, promising himself he’d figure it out.

He almost sleeps in English, only kept awake by the scratch of chalk scraping across the blackboard. He stares at his desk for a long while, willing the sound to become white noise to lull him to sleep. Instead it demands his attention, and after a long while of futile struggles he finally looks up. It’s not their teacher at the board; instead a broad back covered in dark leather and a head of dark hair standing prominently before his work. Scrawled across the board in all different sizes are two words. Wake Up.

The figure turns and leaves the room, moving too quickly for Stiles to catch sight of his face. He takes a deep breath, nods to himself briefly, and takes off after him. Scott’s asking him where he’s going but he ignores him. He’s too consumed with the need to get answers, to understand what’s happening to him.

It gets harder once their outside the school, the mysterious man running toward the woods. Stiles does his best to keep up, fighting the burning in his lungs and legs as he follows behind. They weave between trees until the reach a clearing. He runs to the center of it; the other man’s gone. 

Stiles pants for air as his head snaps from side to side in a desperate attempt to find the man he'd just seen. "Wait! Please wait!"

He jumps in shock as suddenly there's a voice in his ear, low and desperate. "Please wake up."

“I’m trying.” He gasps, turning to see the man who’s been haunting him. He looks tired, a scowl adorning his face and dark circles under his eyes. Stubble coats his chin, as dark as the hair on his head. It feels familiar and despite the dangerous look in the stranger’s eyes, it feels safe. Realization hits Stiles like a freight train. “You’re Derek, aren’t you?”

Derek nods rather than speak. His shoulders seem a little less tense and relief crosses face, albeit briefly.

“You’re not real either though, are you?” Stiles asks, heart dropping into his stomach because he knows, he knows the answer to this one.

“No. I’m not.” Derek’s tone is even.

Stiles thinks over his next question carefully, not sure how many he’ll have. “Why doesn’t this place want me to know about you?”

The corner’s of Derek’s mouth twitch, and Stiles can’t help the brief swell of pride within him. “Your mind is fighting itself. It wants to stay here, where it’s safe.”

“So you’re a part of my mind?” Stiles presses.

He gets another almost-smile for that. “Yes.”

“And if I remember you,” Stiles murmurs, almost more to himself now. “like really remember you, I’ll be able to break out?”

Derek doesn’t say anything this time, just looks at him with a piercing stare. Stiles doesn’t need him to say anything though, he can feel it. It’s enough.

“Please wake up, Stiles.” Derek calls to him as he leaves the woods. He turns to look at the older man and nods before continuing on his way. He drives straight home, locks himself in his room, and prepares for another night without sleep.

He’s ready for it this time, spending the night digging for memories and traces of Derek rather than stressing over all the things that are wrong.

It’s the best he’s felt in a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. Work has been hectic.

Stiles is getting a little sick of the theatrics, if he’s being honest. His mind is just trying to help itself, he gets it, but he’s so ready to not be terrified every time he’s alone. His life feels like a fucked up paranormal movie, and quite frankly he’d rather not be killed by some psycho poltergeist.

Except the psycho poltergeist is Derek, and that’s both comforting and terrifying for a number of reasons. Sometimes, on a good day, Stiles can see him; scowling and sitting on his bed or in his jeep or standing across the cafeteria. He likes those days, like the tether they give him. Other days there are only flickering lights and disembodied voices. He feels like he’s drowning on those days; feels like it all must be in his head. 

The world’s starting to pick up on; comments and actions from those around him doing their best to make him feel like he’s being silly. Or going crazy. He tries to ignore it, to pretend to be happy and fine, while figuring things out. It doesn’t seem to be working. 

The memories come in flashes. He’s found that some are entirely tactile, like the dictionary and his jeep. He’s also found that they only work with Derek,. He can’t seem to recall anything that isn’t tied to the older man. Eventually he just stops trying; focusing on Derek solely. He feels better then. 

The first one to scare him is linked to a shirt. When he pulls it on over his head he’s suddenly slammed into the wall, Derek glaring at him. His body trembles, because “Ow! That hurts! Derek what are you doing?” Derek quirks an eyebrow at him and really, Stiles doesn’t know what’s going on. Derek’s jaw is set angrily and his eyes are narrowed to near slits. 

Eventually Derek just backs off; let’s go of the front of his shirt and smoothes it out for him. Stiles stays pressed against the wall, even as Derek backs away, scared that moving might set him off again. Derek sits on his bed and looks at him with his normal, less violent, glare and finally Stiles takes a shaky step forward. Derek doesn’t seem to care at all. His shoulders drop as relief floods him and he grabs his shoes to pull them on. Derek just watches him.

“Where are you going?” He finally asks, voice gruff and irritated.

Stiles looks up from his shoelaces, gauging Derek’s expression before returning to what he’s doing. “I’ve got a date with Erica.”

Derek growls. “She’s not real.”

Stiles pauses, frowns, continues. “I get that. But sometimes it’s nice to have people listen to me when I talk to them, you know? Or want to touch me without breaking my back against the wall.”

Derek’s frowning now, more thoughtful than angry. “You don’t really talk. To her. To any of them.”

Stiles snorts as he looks up at the man on his bed. “What are you talking about, I babble my brains out.”

“Tell me what you say. What they say back. Your exact words and conversations.” Stiles opens his mouth to do so, but he suddenly realizes he can’t. He feels like they’ve been talking, like all they do is talk. But he can’t think of anything that they actually say, aside from a few lines here and there. “See? It’s a way to keep the illusion in place; not actually saying anything so they can’t say anything wrong.”

Stiles thinks on that, and really it makes sense. His stomach churns, because even though he knew it wasn’t real and it wouldn’t last, he really had enjoyed feeling important to someone. And now even that was a lie. He scowls and kicks his shoes off angrily. Derek cocks an eyebrow at him and he hates it. He hates him. He wants to punch him and scream at him for taking this away from him.

And somewhere, very deep down, there’s a part of him that wants to bury his face in the older man’s chest and take comfort from him. Because he trusts him. Because he needs him.

He sits in his computer chair and Derek sits on his bed and they both just scowl. It silent and horrible and Stiles wants to scream to break it, but he’s afraid it’ll make Derek disappear again, and more than anything he doesn’t want to be alone. So he sits there silently until his door is suddenly thrown open and Erica is flouncing in.

She asks him if he’s forgotten their date. No she doesn’t ask him. He feels like she asks him, but it’s not real. Nothing is real. He tells her he’s sorry, he’s tired. She buys it. Of course she does. She was made to. She isn’t real. He has nothing. She’s cooing to him and petting his hair and guiding him to the bed, telling him she’ll take care of him with wicked promise in her voice. He doesn’t want her to, doesn’t want her hands on his skin. He doesn’t want to feel like this anymore.

She’s reaching out to pull off his shirt when Derek yanks her up by the scruff of her neck and drags her to the door. She struggles and fights but he doesn’t relent, shoving her outside the door and closing it in her face before turning the lock. Stiles looks at him; confused. They’ve never interacted before, no matter how many times Derek’s been in the same room. They’ve never seen him and he’s not done anything to them. But she saw him, and she looked pissed. Her eyes had flashed gold as the door had closed, Stiles will swear by it. 

“Derek...”

“You have to wake up, Stiles.”

He’s gone then, and really Stiles can’t help being a little pissed off. Of all the times to just fucking disappear, he had to pick now? He thinks about wallowing in his misery, laying there on the bed and maybe crying it out, but he can’t. He knows he’ll never get up if he does. Instead he reaches for his computer, looking up eyes that change colors. Outside his window a wolf howls. Which is dumb, really, because wolves haven’t been in California in years. He gets up to look out the window. Erica’s outside staring up at him, eyes still gold.

His body’s shaking uncontrollably as it clicks into place; a huge piece of the puzzle that had been taunting him for so long. He can’t begin to imagine how he forgot this; how he could ever put it out of his mind. Her eyes glow and she howls again and Stiles knows, can feel it in his soul. He’s not just the sheriff’s son or a student in high school

He’s the boy that runs with wolves. Werewolves to be exact.

He’s pulling on his shoes again, frantically this time. Erica tries to approach him once he’s out the door but he shrugs her off and beeline’s for his jeep, jamming the key in the ignition and peeling off as fast as he can. He’s not exactly sure where he’s going but he knows it’s big. The jeep handles the drive well for as many times as Stiles makes quick last minute turns. Finally he’s parked outside a house. Or rather, the shell of a house; its walls burned and crumbling.

He gets out and approaches it slowly, eyes taking in everything they can. They stop on a window on the second floor. Derek’s face peeks at him through broken glass. He looks pleased, relieved. Stiles is inside and trying to find him before he can register what he’s doing. He skips certain steps automatically, as if knowing that they’re unstable and will collapse under his weight. When he reaches the room with the broken window, Derek isn’t there anymore; just a leather jacket on a lonely mattress. 

He sits down and picks up the jacket. It feels and smells like the older man, and Stiles takes a sort of relief from it. He pulls it on, lays against the mattress, and closes is eyes.

If he falls asleep here crying, who’s going to know? None of them are real anyways.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casually giving myself feels and making myself cry, nbd.

Stiles is trying to integrate Derek into the world before he realizes he’s doing it. He skips half of school the next day, showing up at lunch and plopping down beside Erica. “Sorry about Derek last night. You know how he is.”

She asks him who, eyes big and curious as she gazes at him. He’s not having that. No more not-talking. No more making him forget. “Derek.” He says as if he can’t believe she’s forgotten. “Y’know; tall, broody, has an affinity for leather? Picked you up and threw you out of my room last night?”

She looks like she’s struggling with that, like she’s trying her hardest to remember and that kind of stresses him out. If this was all some strange dream of his, then shouldn’t he be able to change them just by thinking about it? Shouldn’t the changes have been instant? Eventually she just shakes her head and shrugs and he can’t stop the crushing feeling of defeat that sweeps over him.

He doesn’t give up. He brings up Derek as often as possible, making sure that the words coming out of his mouth are real and tangible. It’s hard, the urge to play by the world’s rules strong in him. He ignores the instinct as best he can, determined to make this work. He’s done playing by the rules.

It’s not until the end of the day as he realizes how little his efforts have done for everyone else that he realizes how much they’ve helped him. He feels like he’s developing a better grasp on who Derek is and what he means to him. Things become a little clearer every time he brings the older man up, and this realization brings with it relief.

Things go on like that for days; Stiles intentionally makes waves and the world does its best to ignore it. It’s utterly frustrating and a little bit heartbreaking to him that he can’t break through to his friends, but he doesn’t let it stop him. The most important thing right now is Derek, bringing him back, making him real. He clings to Derek desperately, determined not to lose the memories this time.

Derek’s appearances are becoming more frequent, and Stiles ultimately finds it to be a relief. At first, Derek’s always on edge and generally angry. There’s also something desperate to his behavior, like he dreads the moment he’ll disappear. Slowly, as time passes and he shows up more often, he relaxes. Sometimes he smiles when Stiles babbles to him; something Stiles does frequently.

“Isaac acknowledged you today!” Stiles is saying excitedly. “He looked down at the table and I barely heard him but he totally said ‘If Derek was here he’d slap you for that, Scott’!” 

Derek looks up from the floor and his eyes are wide with shock. “What?”

“Yeah!” Stiles continues. “And he looked confused afterwards like he didn’t know why he said it but then he looked at me like he was asking if it was right and I nodded and it seemed to sink in y’know? Because then during Chemistry when Erica got angry he told her ‘Chill out, you know what Derek says’.”

Derek sighs and his shoulders lose their tension. “Of course it would be Isaac.” There’s a fondness to his voice that makes Stiles smile a little bit.

“This is progress right? Like good progress? Soon I’ll just totally remember you and I’ll wake up and whatever this is will be gone and it’ll be great. It’ll be awesome! I’ll wake up and like, hug you or something. And then you’ll cause me bodily harm because you won’t have any clue why I’ve latched on to you and let’s be honest you’ll probably think I’m going to like steal your life force like some sort of parasite because this is me we’re talking about here but dude it’ll be a hug and it’ll be so _good_.” Stiles is grinning and flailing as he talks because really this is all he has. These are his goals; what he wants more than anything.

Derek’s looking at him, and there’s a rueful smile on his face. “You don’t like me, Stiles. You just don’t remember it yet.”

 

Stiles plops beside him on his bed. “Look I get that we don’t have the best relationship, I remember that. But,” he bumps the older man with his shoulder. “I miss you. And I’m totally being nicer to you once I wake up, I swear. Like dude you’re kind of a dick and you cause me physical pain on a near daily basis and you don’t ever say please which really you should because I do a hell of a lot for you thank you very much. But I dunno, I get this feeling that there’s more to it than that. Like, I can’t remember yet but there’s something about you that I identify with. And...I dunno I just feel like something huge is missing without you.”

Derek just stares at him, his expression flickering to something Stiles can’t name for the briefest moment before turning to its normal mask of a scowl. He seems to almost shut down for a little bit, utterly silent and spaced out. Stiles doesn’t move, figuring it’s just his brain catching up with this, making sense of it and filing it away for future reference. Derek’s voice, ever so quiet, takes him by surprise. “I miss you too.”

Stiles can’t help the fondness that swells in him. He leans his head on Derek’s shoulder and sighs. “The worst part about this,” he sighs. “Is that I could give it all up. All of it. I could live without all of it. Just so long as I could have you back, I’d give it all up.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself, and it’s the most freeing thing really.

“What?” Derek’s voice cracks and if he wasn’t having an epiphany Stiles would have laughed.

“I think I’m in love with you dude.” He admits. “I mean, I remember being upset with you, all the time. The same way I remember being upset with Lydia. Only worse, because Lydia was just this distraction that I would cling to; to forget about how much it hurt to lose my mom. Like I dunno Lydia’s a lot like my mom, y’know? She was always really smart, not as much a Lydia, but like she could certainly hold her own. You though, you’re different. I dunno. I feel dumb now. This is stupid. Fuck.” Stiles runs his hand through his fuzz of hair and kicks at the carpet.

Derek looks stunned, and he doesn’t say anything. Just sits there looking like a deer in headlights. He must be having a hard time coming to terms with this, Stiles realized. This was his mind have a gay crisis for a guy that shoves him into walls and threatens him constantly. He kicks the carpet and sighs. “I should get some sleep. Gay crises are kind of exhausting.”

Derek doesn’t move; just wraps an arm around Stiles shoulder and sits there silently as Stiles falls asleep. He’s almost out when he hears it, Derek’s voice quivering as though he’s crying. “Wake up, Stiles. I can’t do this anymore. Please just wake up.”


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles shifts the weight in his arms as gently as he can, letting out a small yell as he almost trips. He curses himself then, because if anyone finds him he’s so dead. He hustles as much as he can, the girl in his arms dead weight. He shouldn’t be out of breath this soon, shouldn’t be struggling so hard to get the two of them to safety.

Something hits him square in the back and he screams as it burns. He wants to stop running and curl up in a ball, but he knows both he and the girl are dead if he does. He pushes himself as hard as he can, pleading with whatever deities there may be that they’ll reach safety. He almost cries when he sees the jeep ahead of him, pulling open the door and sliding inside with the girl still in his arms, resting her on his lap as he slams the door shut and hits the lock. He should probably be more careful with her as he shoves her into the passenger seat and clicks the seatbelt around him but he’s panicking and his survival instincts are telling him to get the fuck out of their and find Scott as fast as he possibly can and really, he can’t think of any reason to argue.

He maybe cries a little when the jeep starts without any trouble, because really this is his life and it wouldn’t have shocked him to have it stall on him now. He speeds off as fast as he can, not minding her gears as well as he usually does but seriously he is being chased and he may very well die and this is just awful. He keeps his eyes on the road as he digs his phone out of his pocket because seriously he refuses to die after such a bold escape by looking down and crashing into a tree. Scott answers on the second ring, yet another miracle.

“Dude where are you?!” His friend’s voice sounds worried and wow, this is the first time in a while that tone has been for him.

“I’m driving, Scott. I’m driving like a bat out of hell away from the woods because yet again one of your bullshit werewolf issues has nearly gotten me killed and I think the skin is melting off my back but I don’t really know right now because I’m driving to get away from murderous fucking fairies!” His voice raises pitch with hysteria towards the end and he takes in a shaky breath. 

“Alright just calm down w-”

“Calm down, Scott?! Calm down?!” Stiles hears a gasp from the passenger seat as his own personal damsel in distress wakes up. “’It’s just this one little favor, Stiles’ ‘It won’t even be dangerous, Stiles.’ ‘Derek said fairies aren’t real, Stiles’! Yeah, that’s why I just had to rescue one from being sacrificed and eaten by a bunch of other fairies right!? But they’re all in my head right!?”

“Ok Stiles I get it seriously just chill out. Where are you?”

“You know what would be nice, Scott?” Stiles can’t help the words pouring out of his mouth. He’s running on autopilot and his filter is gone. “If for once you gave a fuck about me and actually helped me out instead of being too obsessed to realize how much trouble I’m in! It would be nice if I didn’t have to almost die because of your stupid fucking werewolf problems all the time! In fact, it would be great if there weren’t any werewolves at al! How about you all just stop being werewolves and stop ignoring me all the time and stop cracking jokes about me all the time like it doesn’t fucking hurt me because you know what Scott I’m so sick of it!”

“Stiles,” Scott sounds quiet, apologetic, but Stiles can’t stop. He’s on a roll.

“I’d like for someone to actually want to be around me, that would be pretty nice! To be included in the group like everyone else! You know what would be great, to be fucking intimate with someone! That would be nice! Or hey, could I have a decent relationship with my dad again without having to lie to him all the time because all you guys ever do is get into trouble and I’m the one who has to dig you out of it?” Stiles tries to calm down, really he does, because it’s so hard to drive while crying this hard.

“Stiles, please you’re panicking. Just calm down.” Scott’s saying and he really does sound sorry.

“You know what I want most though,” Stiles’ voice is a hoarse whisper now. “I want Derek Hale to stop ruining my life. I wish he’d just disappear and stop making me feel like shit.”

The girl in the passenger seat puts her hand on his arm and he glances at her briefly before turning to look back at the road. Her eyes are soft but determined and she nods to him.

\---

Stiles wakes up with a start, heart pounding and breath coming in hollow gasps. He knows it wasn’t a dream, but a memory, that just shook him to his very core. He feels like this must be the one, the one he needs to finally wake up and set things right. He feels like he just has to get to dream Derek, to confess everything and it’ll all be okay.

He doesn’t bother to shower or change, dashing down the stairs and ignoring his dad’s call before climbing into the jeep. He meant it, last night, when he said he’d give all of this to get Derek back. There’s this nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that he doesn’t have to do it; that he can just stay here where everyone loves him and pays attention to him. He doesn’t have to go back to being lonely and mistreated. He doesn’t care. He just wants Derek back.

He’ll apologize, he decides, first thing when he wakes up. Sure, Derek won’t know why he’s apologizing but he will anyways. He’ll probably cry and he’ll definitely cling to him just like he told dream Derek he would. And yeah, he was right last night. He’s pretty much in love with the asshole and it’s bound to be unrequited and lonely but he’ll live. He just wants Derek back. 

When he gets to the Hale House, it’s empty. Derek isn’t there. He calls out for him, searches desperately through ever room. He debates checking the woods, stands on the porch and stares out into the trees, trying to decide if he might actually find the older man there. Suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder and he spins around to see that girl, looking at him with a frown.

“What are you doing, sweet one?” Her voice is melodious, like soft tinkling bells.

“You’re the fairy!” He points at her. “Why am I dreaming of you?”

Her frown deepens. “Sidhe, love. Why are you fighting?” Her fingers trace from the top of his head down the side of his face, stopping to cup his cheek as she gaze at him with confused eyes.

“Listen not be rude but I don’t want to remember you right now, I’m trying to wake up.” He says impatiently.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Why?”

He groans, frustrated. “None of this is real! I don’t want it!”

“It’s everything you want.” She argues. “I gave you everything you asked for, and so much more.” Her finger taps on his cheekbone absently as she bites her lip.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it! I was just being selfish and-” suddenly her words caught up with him. “What do you mean you gave it to me?”

Her gaze softens then, a small smile gracing her features and making her ten times more beautiful than she’d been when frowning. “Sweetling, Sidhe do not fall short on debts. You saved my life, and in return I’ve given you everything you wanted.” She sounds so happy and excited, like she really thinks this is wonderful. “And it was hardly selfish.” She adds as an afterthought. She turns him around to face away from her then and there everyone is, watching him with a big grin.

She extends her hand over his shoulder to point to them each in turn. “Your father is no longer crushed by loneliness at the loss of your mother. You gave him that. Your friend Scott is accepted by Allison’s family as he always dreamed he’d be. You wanted him to have that.” She strokes his hair with her other hand as she continues on. “Your friend Isaac’s father doesn’t beat him here; loving him and cherishing him instead. Lydia no longer has to hide behind a mask to feel accepted, and Jackson is able to love without any pretense. Boyd has friends who cherish and accept him. And Erica, sweet little Erica, has the confidence she’s always dreamed of without needing werewolf strength to get it.”

They all smile at him, faces beaming in pure joy at him. They’re all touching one another in some form or another, twined fingers or hands on shoulders or arms around waists. They all look so perfectly happy.

“Your gift didn’t just help you; it helped all of them. I’d hardly call that selfish.” Her voice is sweet, coaxing him. “I didn’t give you a dream, dearling. I gave you a world where you could all finally be happy. That is my gift.”

He almost gives in then, because yeah they all look happier than he can ever remember them being. But then he remembers again and his voice cracks as he asks “And Derek?”

Her sweet voice gains a hint of cruelty. “I dealt with him.”

“What do you mean?” His stomach lurches at her tone.

She kisses the back of his head. “He was so cruel to you, ignoring you other than to hurt you. I can see it in you, you know; the way his behavior cut you. He made you suffer, so now he’s suffering. Your world is sweet, little one, but his is filled with emptiness. He’ll spend eternity reliving the most painful moments of his life.”

“No!” He chokes out, turning to face the fairy again. “Derek’s an asshole sometimes sure but- You can’t just- I don’t want-”

“He was ruining your life.” She frowns again, clearly frustrated with his lack of enthusiasm. “Now it is his life in ruins.”

“I don’t want that!” Stiles shouts, swatting her arm away when she tries to touch him again.

“Stiles,” Erica is cooing. “Forget about Derek. Forget about all those awful things. Come back with us.”

He ignores her. “Bring Derek back!” He demands, voice filled with fury. “Bring Derek back to me right now.”

“Stiles, dude, this is silly. Let’s go home, play some games. Eat some pizza.” Scott’s trying to sound reasonable.

Stiles stares the fairy down, fighting off self-loathing. Deep down he realized it wasn’t the fairy doing this to Derek, it was him. It was his words that caused all this. “Bring Derek back to me!”

“Why?” She demands, voice sharp and commanding.

“Because I love him!” Stiles pleads. “Because it doesn’t matter if he never loves me back, I don’t want him to be miserable! I just want him back!”

Silence stretches across them then, and he expects the fairy to grow angry with him. Instead her smile slowly grows and she pets his hair affectionately. “Finally, little fool.”

“What?” he asks, confused. A hand falls heavy and he turns around to see Derek, looking haggard and tired but there’s something else. “Derek!” He latches on, terrified that if he lets go Derek will be gone again.

Derek’s arms come around him and hold him close, a hand resting on his head while the other pulls him close by his lower back. The actions make Stiles cling tighter, desperate. “You lied to me you asshole. You said you weren’t real.”

Derek’s voice is quiet. “You said I ruined your life. I figured you wouldn’t want me to be.”

“I wanted you most of all.” Stiles confesses, fingers growing stiff as they clutch at the back of Derek’s jacket. “I was just too busy denying it.”

He expects Derek to push him away, because seriously Derek isn’t an emotional guy and why would he want Stiles clinging to him and confessing his love to him and saturating him in his feelings. But Derek doesn’t. He just holds Stiles and rests his forehead against the younger boy’s. Stiles can’t feel hot splatters against his collar bone, but he doesn’t say anything about Derek crying in fear it’ll make the older man push him away. “You woke up.” Is all Derek eventually manages to say. “You woke up.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I'd like to thank all of you for reading this. I didn't really expect very many people to read this and really I'm just so pleased with the reactions it's gotten! I really hope you all enjoy the ending! <3

When Stiles wakes up in his bed, he panics. He can hear his dad moving around downstairs and his heart drops. He thought he’d woken up, thought he’d broken out of the strange world where the fairy had left him. He trudged down the stairs with a broken heart.

His father was scrubbing his hand over his face. “Hey kiddo. Have a good day at school. I’m off to bed. Love you.” He doesn’t spare Stiles a good look before climbing the stairs, doesn’t seem to notice how upset his son was. There was no breakfast waiting on the table, no conversation ambushing him first thing.

Stiles wonders if this is the fairy’s way of punishing him as he climbs into his jeep. The drive to the school seems to take forever. By the time Stiles finally parks in front of the school the emptiness filling him is damn near crushing. He walks through the halls toward his locker and on his way he passes Erica and Isaac, her arms wrapped around his neck as she kisses him fiercely and yeah, he’s definitely being punished then.

Scott passes him notes in English and all he talks about is Allison. He doesn’t even ask Stiles what’s wrong; doesn’t even notice. Stiles can’t help scowling as he gets up at the end of class, knowing that this is just the beginning of what’s bound to be an awful time for him. Scott puts his hand on his shoulder and leans in to whisper in his ear “Oh yeah, pack meeting tonight. Don’t forget.”

Stiles looks at him for a moment, confused. The biggest change to the world had been the near eradication of werewolves, but here Scott was just bringing it up. Why would the fairy change that? Why would she punish the others when she was mad at Stiles. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. At Derek’s. Like always.” Scott says, patting Stiles on the back before following after Allison like a puppy dog. 

Stiles doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s starting the jeep and tearing off towards the Hale house. He doesn’t care that he’s cutting class and he’ll probably get in trouble. It doesn’t matter. He just has to know if Derek’s really there. 

Derek’s waiting on the porch when he pulls up and Stiles all but throws himself out of the car. “What-”

“I don’t know.” Derek cuts him off. Stiles bites his lip, debating whether or not to throw himself at the alpha wolf like he wants to. 

“Do you remember-”

“Yeah.” Derek cuts him off again, and if he wasn’t so damn relieved to see him Stiles would be pissed. 

“Scott ignored me to talk about Allison and Erica was making out with Isaac.” Stiles says, trying to make sense of things.

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “They tend to do that.”

“You’re here.” Stiles breathes out.

“I am.” Derek confirms.

“And you’re not suffering or miserable?” Stiles takes a step toward him. “You’re not like, here for a second and then gone to...wherever?”

Derek shrugs. “I’ve been here all morning.”

“Would you stop doing that!” Stiles is getting closer now, hands balled into fists at his side. “You pretty much got tortured because I said something stupid and awful and you’re not even getting mad at me you’re just shutting everything out like you always do and I hate it! Just yell at me or hit me or do something for Christ’s sake!”

Derek grabs his wrist and yanks him forward, looking into his eyes with fierce intensity. “It was horrible.” He says, voice like gravel. “I watched the fire and Laura over and over again. And I just kept hearing you say how I ruined your life.” Stiles shakes and tears prick at his eyes. He can’t even begin to imagine the horrors Derek went through, and he knew it was all his fault. “And it tore me up. That’s the last thing I wanted.” 

“I didn’t mean it.” Stiles pleads. “I didn’t mean it I didn’t want any of that.”

“I kept thinking I was going to be stuck there until I died.” Derek continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “And then I could reach you for a minute or two and that was worse, because you didn’t remember me and you didn’t want to.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. The words cut into him and it hurts much more than it would if Derek just hit him or slammed him against something.

“Until you did.” Derek’s voice gets quieter. “You said you would give up everything you wanted to have me back.”

“I did.” Stiles whispers. “It’s all gone. It’s back the way it was before.” 

“And you regret it?” Derek asks him warily, face masked with its usual scowl.

Stiles shakes his head desperately. “No! I meant what I said Derek, I meant all of it.”

Derek’s kissing him then, and it’s nothing like the kisses with Erica. Derek’s not delicate or shy, and unlike with everything else, he doesn’t hold anything back. His teeth scrape against Stiles’ lips and when Stiles opens his mouth his tongue snakes in and maps him out like Derek is trying to remember the way every inch of his mouth feels. The hand that had gripped his wrist releases and instead lightly grips the back of Stiles head, tilting it and drawing him closer. Stiles clutches the front of Derek’s shirt and he kisses back desperately, afraid that any hesitation will have Derek snatched from him again.

A soft laugh breaks them apart, and Stiles turns to see the fairy lounging on the hood of his jeep, eyes filled with mirth. “My little fools,” she says, voice full of fondness. “How long it has taken you to see what has been here all along.”

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly, brain swimming. 

“I told you, we Sidhe do not fall short on debts. Do you think something like a world of lies truly equaled out to my life?” She laughs again. “Silly boy, this is your gift. I could not create false love for you, not really, but I could give you all the nudges you needed to find your true one.”

“You...you planned all this?!” Stiles voice cracks.

“Of course.” She waves her hand. “And now we are even, sweet one. Your world is back how it should be. They will not remember any of it, but you will.” 

The fairy hops off his jeep, nothing if not graceful. She walks towards the woods, pausing only to turn and look at them once. “You know, in the end it was all you. Both of you. You could have just stayed there forever, but you,” she points at Derek, grin spreading on her face. “your determination broke through to him and precious one you fought with all your might to bring him back. If that says nothing, I do not know what does. Farewell my dearlings, may we never meet again.” She waves to them before disappearing into the trees.

Stiles turns to look at Derek, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. Derek looks back at him with a scowl. “Fucking fairies.”

Stiles snorts, then laughs, feeling a little hysterical as he leans against the alpha wolf. “Okay let’s just agree never to get mixed up in fairy bullshit ever again.” Derek grunts in agreement, arm snaking around Stiles’ waist as he does. “Let’s also agree to do more of that kissing thing. That’s definitely something we should do a lot more of. I could live with all of that in my life. In fact, we could just kiss forever and never stop. I’d be cool with that. Let’s go with that.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls. “Shut up.” But he’s kissing him again, so Stiles will count it as a win. 

As it turns out, having an alpha werewolf for a boyfriend ends up being pretty fantastic, and Stiles won’t ever admit it no matter who asks him, but he does send out a pretty thorough thank you every night before going to bed. Because having Derek, it’s definitely the best. And fairies? Well, he guesses they aren’t so bad after all. As long as they never try to thank him again.


End file.
